


the cold follows me

by dotpyenji



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotpyenji/pseuds/dotpyenji
Summary: Kirsty bumps into some people from North Grastaea.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	the cold follows me

_Deep within a quiet, quiet wood_

_Playing hide-and-seek, a lone fairy stood_

_“I can see you, human!”_

An unfamiliar song, warbled by a gentle female voice, echoed across the plains and into the vibrant orange sunset. Kirsty, ever alert, instinctively looked up.

“Do you hear that, soldier?” 

She turned to Joachim. He, firmly gazing into the distance, looked enraptured by the melody. Even his dog, as if sharing his feelings, had paused her sniffing.

“Heh,” Joachim said quietly, lips curling into a small, sad smile. “That sure brings back memories.”

“So you know this song, Joachim?”

He shrugged without looking back. “It’s a kid’s lullaby. My si...well, my family would sing it before bedtime.”

“I see.” So that explained the wistful glint in his eyes, Kirsty thought. The song continued on, so far away and yet so _haunting._

“Actually, this was a pretty popular lullaby in Svenitla.” He tilted his head in Kirsty’s direction. “You haven’t heard of it, ma’am?”

Kirsty shook her head.

“Not even once?”

“My parents were not the type to sing lullabies.”

“What did they read to you, then?” Joachim chuckled. “ _The Art of Waging War?_ ”

“All twenty-six volumes, if I remember correctly.”

Startled, Joachim’s teasing smirk dropped into a silly-looking pout. “Wait, really? I wasn’t even serious…Should’ve figured, though.”

The song resounded against the backdrop of the vast, cloudless sky. Kirsty wondered who was singing; though the song itself was a stranger, she was sure she’d heard that voice somewhere else in the Halidom.

“Joachim.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Who’s singing?”

“Aeleen, I think?”

“...Aeleen?”

“From the Halidom.” Joachim raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know her?”

“I...don’t mingle much.”

“Well, no offense, ma’am, but I think some good old-fashioned _socializing_ would help you loosen up.”

“I do not need to _loosen up,_ soldier,” she huffed. 

“Heh. Figured you’d say as much.”

“...How does this Aeleen know a song from Svenitla?”

“Eh, it wasn’t exclusive to our place…? The lullaby is the go-to bedtime song for most children in Northern Grastaea.”

“I see. So Aeleen is from the north, then?”

“I think so.”

A cold, refreshing breeze swept through the area, scattering leaves. Kirsty, almost unconsciously, began tapping her boot against the ground in time to the song.

“She has a lovely voice,” she muttered, less to Joachim and more to herself.

“Definitely.” His eyes were closed now, Kirsty noticed.

It was peaceful. War was coming, but in this moment, it was gratifyingly, intoxicatingly peaceful.; so far away from the cold, barren reaches of Svenitla. 

Finally, the final note dropped, and all that was left was the silence of the winds.

“We never had peace like this up north, did we?” Kirsty found herself saying. 

Joachim blinked. “Whoah, waxing philosophical now, are we?”

“...Just a thought, soldier.”

“A weird one, given the moment. But…” He sighed and gently tugged his dog’s leash. “I suppose back at Svenitla, we’d have no time to listen to lullabies.”

“...Indeed.”

The north was harsh; Svenitla’s land was often under snow and sleet. Their squabbles with other territories were mostly out of a need for resources; and though their farms were inadequate, their military might was unparalleled, and many a northern nation had fallen to Svenitla’s army. 

One nation conquered would mean enough food for weeks, months at best; then it would be back to conquering and defending, fighting and rationing.

How many nations had they fought? How many were conquered? Kirsty no longer remembered.

Not that she needed to know.

“Anyway,” Joachim said, “what made you ask—”

His dog suddenly barked, a high pitched yelp. Joachim looked down. 

“Something wrong, Helen?”

Helen, tail wagging, shifted around and raised a paw towards the path behind Kirsty.

“Huh,” Joachim muttered.

“What’s wrong, Joachim?”

Narrowing his eyes, Joachim tilted his head in the direction Helen pointed at. “Is someone coming…?”

Kirsty turned around. Indeed, she heard voices, and accompanying footsteps.

“...ah, how nostalgic…”

“...used to sing it to the princess…”

Joachim, seemingly intrigued, cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Ho!” he hollered, much to Kirsty’s chagrin. “Anyone—”

“Joachim!” Kirsty grabbed his shoulder, a little too hard.

Smugly, he grinned. “Hey, what gives?”

“What if—”

“Enemies? Here? I doubt it.”

“But—”

“Stop worrying and _mingle_ for once, yeah? This isn’t a Svenitlan war ground.”

He had a point. Kirsty, resigned, crossed her arms. “Affirmative.”

Two men—one a sylvan—approached, walking in slow, relaxed strides. Helen, tail wagging, yipped excitedly—like a hungry child awaiting supper, Kirsty thought.

“Easy, girl.” Joachim tugged on the leash, prompting a yelp from Helen, then turned to the newcomers. “Hey!”

From a distance, the sylvan, who wore a hood and had purple ears, waved. The other man, who had long, white hair, had his hands full with...vegetables?

“Joachim!” the sylvan called. “Didn’t know you were here, too.”

“I’m walking my dog,” Joachim replied.

“Helen?”

“The one and only.”

“Hold on, we’re coming—do you need help with those, Valerio? No? Alright...”

The two walked up to them, the sylvan beaming amiably. Kirsty noted the assortment of vegetables the other man held—sprouts and greens of all kinds she never saw in Svenitla. 

“How’s Helen?” the sylvan asked, crouching down and petting Helen’s head. “How’s the good girl?” 

“ _I’m doing good, woof woof!_ ” Joachim replied in a whinny, high-pitched voice. 

“Ready with the wisecracks, as always, aren’t you?” Looking up, the sylvan noticed Kirsty, and his ears perked up attentively. “And you are…”

“Kirsty,” she said automatically. 

“Friend of mine,” Joachim added. 

“Joachim is my subordinate.”

“ _Friend of mine,”_ Joachim repeated.

“Heh.” The sylvan stood. “A pleasure to meet you, Kirsty. I’m Norwin.”

“And I’m Valerio,” the vegetable-holding man said.

Instinctively, Kirsty mentally repeated their names, as if they were new soldiers introduced to her squad. “You are Joachim’s associates?”

“Hm…” Norwin’s brow furrowed. “We bump into each other occasionally.”

“Anyway,” Joachim butted in, “what brings you guys here?”

Valerio turned to Joachim. “We were shopping for tonight’s dinner,”

A big, annoying grin filled Joachim’s face. “You’re cooking tonight, Valerio?”

“Indeed.”

“Damn, I hope the rumours about your culinary genius are true, then. What about you, Norwin?”

“Cleo assigned me to help out, as both she and Mitsuba are sick.”

A quick nod. “I see, I see.”

Friendly feelings all around—Kirsty, admittedly, was not used to such an atmosphere, but Joachim seemed to take to it like a fish to water.

As the three chittered about, Kirsty looked at the sky, now fading into dark blues. The full moon had begun to show itself. Had she been in Svenitla at the moment, she would have been supervising the kindling of the campfire, or perhaps receiving the rations of the day.

“...know the song?”

Kirsty glanced at Joachim. “What did you say?”

Joachim, seemingly surprised, turned about. “Oh, no, we were talking about Aeleen’s song.”

“The lullaby?”

“Yeah.” He threw his head back and winked. “I’m not the only one getting nostalgic over a kid’s lullaby, it seems.”

Kirsty faced the other two. “You...also come from the north?”

A quick pause. “I'm...from Mentzara,” Valerio said, voice hushed.

“And I come from the Duchy of Anasonne,” Norwin said. 

She scratched her head. “...I haven’t heard of those places.”

Norwin raised an eyebrow. “Not to worry. After all, Anasonne no longer exists.”

How he dropped that so casually, Kirsty could only guess. “What do you mean?”

“You are from the North, are you not? Then you know how it is there—wars, and all.” A lackluster smile accompanied his words. “Anasonne just wasn’t equipped for such things.”

“I...see. My condolences.”

“Nothing to worry about. It happened long ago.” Even so, Kirsty noticed how he had stuffed his hands into his pockets, and how his eyes had dimmed.

“...Ah, I thought…” Valerio narrowed his eyes. “Was the duchy not annexed?”

Norwin shook his head. “The king refused to yield, so, no...Mentzara was annexed, though, wasn’t it? If memory serves....”

So their nations had faced war, too—and had suffered at the short end of the stick. Still, it was a mutual topic they could go on about.

“War is constant in the north. It was tiresome,” Kirsty said.

“Cruel...but true,” Norwin muttered. “Still, I wish I could go back. Even though there’s nothing left of Anasonne…”

“I don’t have much to return to, either,” Valerio said.

“Still…home is home.” The sylvan put a hand to his heart.

“Home is home, indeed.” 

A wistful, quiet silence. It smelled of trees and wind.

 _Home is home_.

Svenitla was cold—barren—but it was home. There was not much left to return to—but it was home.

“When my business in Alberia is done, perhaps you two would like to come with me?” she said. 

It was uncharacteristic of her to say such a thing—Joachim’s confused stare told her as much—but she felt a small connection to these strangers from the north. After all, they had both faced the harsh realities of the northern wars.

“Back to the north?” Valerio smiled. “If your homeland is still in one piece by that time…maybe.”

“I’m sure it will hold while I’m gone.” Kirsty said. She was confident in her nation’s might.

Shuffling his arms to accommodate the vegetables, Valerio put one hand to his chin. “Then...hm, it’s an interesting prospect…I’ve been meaning to learn the recipe for borscht.”

“Borscht? That sounds...ha!” She broke into a smile. “It’s been awhile since I’ve sampled borscht.”

“Heh.” Valerio nodded in agreement. “Then I’d be glad to make some for you, should things ever settle down.”

“Ah, Kirsty—” Norwin piped up.

“Yes?”

“I forgot to ask, but what part of the north _do_ you come from?”

Kirsty stood to attention. “I come from Sve—”

A gloved hand clapped over her mouth—Joachim’s.

“Heeeeeey, it’s getting pretty dark, isn’t it?” he chimed, in an overly friendly voice. “Hate to keep you guys here while you still have dinner to attend to.”

“Soldier—!” Kirsty, scowling, wrenched his wretched hand from her mouth. “Do not lay a _finger_ —“

“You guys cooking salad? That’s a lot of vege—”

“ _Joachim!”_

“Better hurry, or we’re going to have a late dinner.”

Valerio, frowning, glanced at the vegetables in his arms. “...Mm, that was...well, I suppose we should start washing these.”

“Thank you for the chat…?” Norwin said, brow furrowed, eyes shifting. “See you later, then.”

And just like that, the two left, whispering furtively. 

After a brief bout of silence, Joachim spoke. “Ma’am—”

She waved a hand dismissively. “What was that conduct, Joachim?”

“Just—”

“You were out of line, soldier!”

He flinched, raising both hands in surrender. Helen whimpered, tail between her legs.

“W-well,” he stuttered, “if they knew we were from Svenitla, it would have put a damper on the whole conversation, so…”

“Explain.”

Joachim slowly lowered his arms. “They come from Mentzara and Anasonne, right?”

“Two places that no longer exist, according to them. What about it?”

“You do know _why_ they don’t exist, right?”

“...No.”

A long, deep sigh. “It involved war.”

Irked, Kirsty gritted her teeth. “I am not a child—I know that much. What of it?”

“War with a _certain_ nation we’re very much acquainted with.”

“...Barthe?”

He shook his head. “I’m talking about good old Svenitla.”

The air turned very cold and still. The sun had completely dipped below the horizon. It was as if they were back north again, managing rations in the dead of the night.

Her mind raced back to all the nations they had fought—small nations full of bountiful crops Svenitla _needed,_ or so their king had said _._ She remembered burning towns and fleeing citizens—how many had their lives shattered over wars?

How many of these citizens were in the Halidom?

“...When did...?” Kirsty managed.

“A couple years back; though you weren’t a commander yet, I believe, so it’s understandable that you didn’t know.”

“...I see.”

She almost wished that Joachim had not stopped her from naming her homeland, if only to see the ensuing pangs of hatred in Norwin and Valerio’s eyes; she wanted to _know_ how much suffering her nation had brought. How much had fallen, been sacrificed, ruined beyond repair.

Joachim stretched extravagantly and yawned, as if to distract her. 

“Whew! Anyway, it’s already dark. Let’s head back, shall we?” He smacked his lips. “I, for one, am looking forward to dinner. Valerio’s a top-class chef, you know.”

Helen yipped, as if to agree. 

And so they began the long walk back to the Halidom. The moon, a gleaming eye in the night sky, was ever watching. Kirsty realized just how chilly the air was.

“Get me some coffee once we get back, Joachim.”

“All I do is work, work, work.” He sighed. “The usual?”

“Black as night and strong as ever.”

“I’ll be on it.”

It had gotten cold—freezing. A stark contrast to the vibrant warmth of earlier.

The frost of Svenitla had followed her south.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i had a headcanon that svenitla was the nation that conquered mentzara/anasonne, since the two latter nations were described as "small but happy" and svenitla was always fighting for resources in north grastaea. so, yeah.
> 
> hope this piece turned out ok!


End file.
